


superboy

by yoonbot (iverins)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 06:46:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17239394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iverins/pseuds/yoonbot
Summary: What goes unnoticed is that in the brightness of the sun, you cannot tell that it faces the sunflower in return.





	superboy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [englishsummerrain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/englishsummerrain/gifts).



> dear recipient,
> 
> I'M SO SORRY THIS FIC IS EXTREMELY LATE... i restarted this three times and am still unsatisfied with this result but i hope it is, in some way, a little bit like what you'd hoped to receive TT if not i will gladly write you another fic to compensate, if you'd so like... i hope you have a lovely holiday season and an amazing new year ahead of you! ♡
> 
> also, many thanks to mod for organizing this exchange and being so patient with me while i continually was a horrible person TT

On the first day of summer after Jeonghan's twenty-fifth birthday, it rains.

Rain, scientifically, is a naturally occurring phenomenon in which condensed water vapor falls to the ground due to gravity. Raindrops, metaphorically and quite literally, do not fall alone as they pound against the back of Jeonghan's sweater while he's waiting for the crosswalk signal, already sopping wet.

And just when he's about to step off the curb – an umbrella, sunflower yellow, and a boy with a kind smile that collects at the corners of his eyes in crow's feet, holding it up for him.

Unlike a raindrop, Jeonghan won't understand this until later, that's when he falls for this boy, alone.

 

 

 

 

Here is Yoon Jeonghan's life story, condensed:

He's born. He lives. He dies, hopefully not alone.

No, no, let's start again. Okay, _here's_ the _real_ story –

Jeonghan catches a fish when he's seven years old. It's not particularly large or particularly small, but he catches it. And instead of putting it in the bucket with the other writhing sea creatures, Jeonghan unhooks it with his chubby fingers and throws it back into the ocean.

Jeonghan goes through primary school. Then middle school, and then high school, and then – after an indeterminable amount of studying later – he gets into university. It's a big thing for his parents, and they celebrate with all his aunts and uncles, and his grandparents send him money with their congratulations cards in the mail.

Jeonghan, in between his first and second year at university, comes to the epiphany that he likes boys. He likes girls too, but he also, undeniably, likes guys. Likes dudes. Likes men. Likes – you get what I mean. He keeps this within himself until, like a bottle of soda shaken up and kicked around, it fizzes over and creates a sticky saccharine mess. Except Wen Junhui's too nice to break his heart, so Jeonghan makes it easy and does it for him.

Jeonghan graduates when he's twenty-four. It's supposed to be the proudest moment of his life as of yet, but he has to look down at his diploma to remember the full name of his degree. And, _ah,_ four years really went by, just like that.

Once you get to know him, you'll realize Jeonghan likes to tell jokes. Here's the first punchline of many: Jeonghan doesn't know what he wants from life.

And if you know him, _really_ know him, then you'll realize this: Jeonghan's not truly laughing after he tells you this.

 

 

 

 

That's his name – Seokmin. _Seok_ as in big, _min_ as in a precious gemstone. Lee Seokmin.

Lee Seokmin's two years younger than him. "Still in university?" Jeonghan asks, the umbrella tilting over him, the droplets sliding down the top to embed themselves against the shoulder of Seokmin's t-shirt.

Seokmin startles at the question. "Yeah," he stutters. The raindrops slide further down the sleeve of his shirt. He'd told Jeonghan forty-two steps ago that he always carried this umbrella in his backpack, university logo ironed on the pocket, _just in case._

"I work at a coffee shop," Jeonghan tells him. He looks up at the sky that has opened up and released this torrent onto them. It shows no signs of letting up. "I graduated with a good degree from a good college, and I work at a coffee shop."

Then he looks at Seokmin, who blinks. "Oh," he says, at a loss for words.

Jeonghan laughs as they approach the station entrance. For a few steps, Seokmin's tilting the umbrella over an invisible body, his right shoulder soaking wet. "I won't be a good friend to you." Jeonghan turns once he's under the awning, Seokmin's umbrella still skewed. "But will you be back tomorrow?"

Seokmin readjusts his grip on the handle. He rests the umbrella against his shoulder, the top spreading around his head like the petals of a sunflower facing the sun. "If it rains tomorrow," he sing-songs. "Then I'll be here."

It sounds like a promise.

 

 

 

 

Seokmin doesn't say for sure but: it'll rain the next day. And the next, and the next, and the next – exactly like this for an entire week. Jeonghan looks up the weather report so he knows that the muggy summer storm will keep on until whoever's up there cries themselves dry.

Seokmin also doesn't say this but: when the rain ends, so will his promise. And if it's conditional, can you really call it that?

 

 

 

 

It's not like Jeonghan doesn't have friends. "I do," he insists to Seokmin three days later, at the same crosswalk, waiting for the same signal with the same sunflower yellow umbrella between them. "There's Seungcheol and Jisoo and Soonyoung and – "

"Me," Seokmin interrupts. He's smiling and there's a raindrop running down the pointy bridge of his nose. "And me."

Jeonghan, truthfully, has never liked the color yellow. Jeonghan has also, truthfully, never minded walking back home in the throes of a storm without an umbrella and has always preferred it to the prying rays of the sun, sticking to his skin every other summer day.

"Yeah," Jeonghan shrugs. The crosswalk turns green and Seokmin's grin turns blinding. "I guess you."

 

 

 

 

No, it's like this:

Sometimes, Jeonghan pulls up a contact on his phone. Let's say, Seungcheol. Or Jisoo. Or hell, maybe even Junhui. Anyway, in any case, Jeonghan will type out a message, usually starting with –

_Hey_

And then he lays there in bed, thinking about that fish he caught when he was seven. You know, the one he threw back into the ocean, the blood from untangling it from his rod red on his chubby hands and a small chunk of its flesh still stuck against the hook. Sometimes, Jeonghan wonders what it'd be like if he hadn't, or if that fish is still swimming around off that coast with a hole in the side of its mouth.

When he looks back at his phone after this digression, his message looks like this:

_Hey#!@$!@#####!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

That's when Jeonghan decides that some people are just meant to be antisocial.

 

 

 

 

"But you get along with me," Seokmin points out.

Jeonghan frowns at the puddle right in front of the curb, one that's pooling dangerously close to his already-soaked-through sneakers. "Who said that?"

"I did," Seokmin says, feigning hurt. "I am."

Jeonghan pushes him into the puddle. And maybe he won't think this is telling until later but Seokmin just laughs and laughs and laughs about it instead of getting wet.

 

 

 

 

Whereas Jeonghan is surprisingly complicated, Seokmin is surprisingly simple.

Seokmin meets Jeonghan at the crosswalk near the coffee shop, sunflower yellow umbrella in hand, the same cream-colored shirt and jeans and university backpack slung over his shoulders. His face lights up when he sees Jeonghan, and then he waves.

Seokmin's got a heart made out of isomalt. He laughs when Jeonghan tells him about weird customers, frowns when Jeonghan tells him that he doesn't know what he wants from life, and smiles as they talk about the things everyone else has always told him don't matter, like the fish he caught when he was seven.

Seokmin loves things so easily like: the rain. Sunflowers and sunflower yellow, hence the umbrella. This ten minute walk from Jeonghan's workplace to the train station that they extend into twenty, and then thirty, and then thirty-three.

Seokmin's like the sun sometimes. A heat too muggy and trapped to be comfortable, a smile too loud and bright for the monochrome of an overcast sky. And Jeonghan, instead of telling him this:

"I don't know if it'll rain tomorrow."

And Seokmin doesn't say for sure but: the smile slips off his face at that.

 

 

 

 

Let's rewind to Jeonghan's life story, condensed:

He's born. He lives. He dies, hopefully not alone.

And in between all that, someone touches his life so mundanely, yet so deeply that Jeonghan cannot forget. This someone has a kind smile that collects at the corners of his eyes in crow's feet, and can't keep his lie about how he's a university student straight, and yet Jeonghan will tell you that yes, he –

Love is a naturally occurring phenomenon in which one feels a deep interpersonal connection to another –

Okay, but condensed: like water vapor falling due to gravity, Jeonghan's just one rain drop in a very large and raging storm.

 

 

 

 

Seokmin doesn't have his umbrella today. His face still lights up when he sees Jeonghan, and then he waves.

"It's raining today," Seokmin tells him at the crosswalk. "You said you didn't know..." he trails off. And then he looks at Jeonghan. "But it's raining today."

There are some people whose presences just make you feel like you're iridescent, the way they look at you. And even if you've never looked at someone else like that before, they've given you that ability, and you try to see them as they see you. And Seokmin, Seokmin's like the sun. "I hoped it would rain," Jeonghan says as the crosswalk turns green. They just stand there in the downpour, soaked to the skin.

There's a funny look on Seokmin's face. Funny because Jeonghan's never seen it before and he squints, trying to ingrain it in his memory. "Tell me," Seokmin starts. The look melts into a sad smile, softened and blurred by raindrops on the edges. "Do you hope it'll rain tomorrow?"

Jeonghan wants to reach for Seokmin's hand. Jeonghan wants to go back to the first day of summer after his twenty-fifth birthday and relive each day a little differently than he did, and then go back and relive them all again and again and again. Jeonghan wants –

"Everyday," he tells Seokmin. "I hope it rains everyday."

 

 

 

 

Press pause. Then, play. Then fast-forward until the pavement's dry and Jeonghan's no longer working at the coffee shop and he's sitting across from Seungcheol:

When you ask Yoon Jeonghan for his ideal type, he will stop, think of a summer where an early monsoon season brought a week of storms, and say with a kind smile –

"Someone with a sunflower yellow umbrella, waiting for me in the rain."


End file.
